


The Chair

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blood Kink, Bondage, Corsetry, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dildos, M/M, Riding Crops, Temperature Play, Wax Play, chocolate dildos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: Frost and Proto have a night together
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Kudos: 1





	The Chair

“So this is your place?” Frost looked around the basement, taking in the chains wrapped with feather boas dangling from the ceiling. Other than those, and the… chair (if it could be called that, instead of some unknown medieval torture device Proto invented himself) sitting in the middle of the room, it was a perfectly normal basement apartment. There was a small futon in the corner, and on the opposite wall lay a freezer and small fridge. To the far wall of Jack’s location was the curtain that hid from view Proto, a desk, and a black, gothic-style wardrobe. “It’s very…”

“Indeed it is,” Proto replied from behind the curtain as he changed into something more comfortable. Frost side-eyed the curtain dubiously, as he hadn’t applied any descriptive to his sentence. A pale hand with too-long fingers curled around the edge of the curtain, and Proto’s ash-white face appeared, a dull smile on his angular face. “By the by, you wouldn’t happen to know what your blood type is? I’d prefer this night not end in _undue_ hospitalization.”

“My what?” His blood type? _Hospitalization_? “Why would I need to go to the hospital?”

“Oh, never mind. I’ll just have to use my O-negative supply.” Proto seemed to answer himself before turning back to Frost. “And don’t worry your pretty little head, Jack-boy. If anyone ends up hospitalized, it’s _due_ hospitalization. The staff there know in advance when that happens.”

His face disappeared back behind the curtain, which was a sky blue with a rubber ducky pattern, and Frost was left finding somewhere to get comfortable that _wasn’t_ the Chair. Deciding to sit on the Futon, Jack sidestepped around the Chair only to get a mouthful of bright pink feather boa. As he wa spitting out the feathers, Proto called out from behind the curtain, “Pink isn’t your color, I daresay you’re more of a frosty sky blue. Now if you please, strip and sit in the Chair.”

“Strip?” Frost was surprised; while he was staying with his cousin for the week while Pyotr was off in Europe on some business trip, he hadn’t expected Proto to be so… _forward_. Of course, his pants were down to his knees before Frost realized that he was about to learn more about Proto in this one night than any of his roommates had even been able to tell him (the most he’d gotten out of them was half-crazed mutterings about something called “Mr. Pickles”).

“And lay on the Chair, yes.” Proto drew back the curtain, and Frost’s pants fell the rest of the way down to his ankles. Because Proto was standing there wearing a black leather corset and dark red panties. A bright red feather boa was draped over Proto’s shoulders and curled around his long neck and even longer arms, the ends coming just shy of his hands. Blood-red zebra-skin thigh-high stilettos clicked against the stone floor as Proto approached Frost, overlong arms brushing chains and boas out of the way as he came ever closer. Where once Proto was tall before, with overlong limbs, the stilettos made him seem far taller, as they came up to just barely cover his knees as well as added several inches to his looming height. “You aren’t laying on the Chair, Jack-boy.”

A strangled squeak came out of Frost’s mouth as the pants were flung across the room and he scrambled, nude, onto the Chair. It was a cold metal contraption covered with the thinnest silk fabric Frost had ever seen, and the feel of the silk combined with the chill of the metal to make Frost’s skin buck and shiver against him, and a heady, heavy wheeze came out of his mouth as Proto towered over him.

Now I realize the redundancy of this question but,” Proto began as black fur-covered handcuffs were produced out of the Chair and clicked into place around Frost’s hands, pulling his arms up above his head. “You wouldn’t happen to have any allergies or pre-existing illnesses I should know about?”

Frost became dizzy as he shook his head in the negative, all the blood having rushed down to the cock protruding out in the air and twitching to the beat of his thumping heart. Proto’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth before he added as an afterthought, “Oh, you wouldn’t happen to have any safewords I should be on the lookout for, either?”

 _Safewords_? Frost’s mind bewilderedly thought as he blinked his confusion. Proto seemed able to read his mind, though, as he just _smiled_ that smile of his and chuckled, and Frost felt soft leather stroking his cock as his mind melted down at the sensation because _Proto had a riding crop_ and _why was the man still wearing that outfit_?

“Oh dear me, Jack-boy.” Proto shook his head sadly, even though he sounded amused at Jack’s thoughts, and the riding crop lightly slapped against his balls in admonishment. “This isn’t the sex you’re looking for.”

Frost barely had time to let the statement sink in when the leather of the riding crop dipped down, the body of the shaft pressing down against his own as it slid further and further down, the sensation leaving him groaning in need and gasping for breath.

“You see,” Proto continued, his saccharine voice at odds with the way he loomed over Frost ominously. “So far the sex you’ve had has been purely physical. You’ve not yet experienced anything quite so… _sensual_ as the sex I am going to introduce you to.”

“ _Sensual_?” Frost groaned as his cock was slapped by the riding crop.

“No talking, Jack-boy. Now is the time for _feeling_.” Overlong fingers dragged across Frost’s chest, fingernails scraping against skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake which were then caressed by the edge of the riding crop. There was a _pop_ as Proto uncorked a test tube filled with what must have been lube, for he dipped each of his fingers down to the knuckle in it, before pulling away and sliding the riding crop back into the little holster sewn into the side of the stiletto. Frost’s legs were lifted high as stirrups clicked into place at the end of the chair, and soon his ankles were cuffed into place, heels left sitting in the stirrups as Proto slid one finger deep into Frost.

Frost bit back a scream as the finger went deep, deep, deep into him, far deeper than anything else had ever gone. It was so, _so_ warm inside him that Frost was whining, wanting it out out _out_ because that was _too deep he couldn’t handle anything that far inside him had never had anything that far_ –

And then the second finger was added, and the two of them began to scissor inside of him, stretching and pushing and _too much it was too much far too much oh god he was going to break Proto was going to break him with just the man’s fingers oh god_.

A third finger was added, and by that point Frost was unable to keep the scream inside as nerves he didn’t know he had were pushed and prodded and _what was going on here this was just supposed to be sex this wasn’t sex this was hell in human form_.

“Well I think you’re prepared enough, Jack-boy, don’t you?” Frost opened his eyes – _when had he closed them why was it so hard to see oh god the fingers were pulling out –_ and was gasping for breath as Proto’s fingers pulled out of him, a weak moan of protest gasping out because _that was too full and now he was just a gaping hole that needed to be filled_ _ **so badly**_ _he was crying_. “Oh, don’t let the tears fall just yet, Jack-boy. The fun hasn’t even started.”

Frost could only whimper in response as Proto stepped away, and through the tears Frost could see Proto crouching down in front of the freezer, and the chill mist poured out of it to make the room several degrees cooler, which made Frost whine as it only served to remind him of the loss of _heat_ that had been Proto’s fingers.

“As I said earlier, Jack-boy, without knowing your blood type, I’m just going to have to dig into my supply of O-negative.” Proto pulled something out of the freezer, but Frost couldn’t see it, and it was kept out of view the entire time Proto closed the freezer and moved to the desk, pulling something out of one of the drawers, before returning to Frost, items in hand. One, which was long and of a chocolate brown color and had a familiar shape, was set down in the space of the chair no longer occupied by Frost’s legs. Whatever it was had come from the freezer, as it had a chill that pulled away the heat and Frost could only squirm as the chill radiated so close where there had been an oven of heat. Frost was slapped with the riding crop again, and he didn’t care because he was _horny_ damn it and Proto damned well better start getting a move on or Frost was gonna– “Now, now, Jack-boy. I just have to light the candle and then we can get started.”

There was the familiar click of a lighter being lit up, and the object from the desk was revealed to have been a bright red candlestick, the wick now burning with a little flame that melted the wax with ease.

“Now, _this_ ,” Proto held up the chocolate-colored object, “is a chocolate penis. It is eight inches in length, and this is what shall be going inside you tonight.”

“Chocolate _what_?” Oh, good, Frost found his voice. He was afraid the preparation had robbed him of the ability to speak, although he did sound rather rough.

“Chocolate penis,” Proto repeated. “With blood filling. O-negative, to be exact. The most compatible type as we haven’t divulged our blood type, have we Jack-boy?”

Frost would have said something, only to have his mind completely melt down because _Proto was pushing the chocolate penis into him holy god it was cold no stop it was_ _ **too cold**_. Frost’s entire body shuddered at the pervading _cold_ and tried to get it _out out out_ only he couldn’t because Proto had spread him too loose and too open and _fucking hell it was still going in what the fuck was Proto doing for god’s sake it was cold cold cold cold_ _ **cold**_.

And then it stopped moving, stopped pushing so deep, stopped _everything_. It just laid there, in him, unmoving, only shifting in response to his internal muscles spasming and contracting. Proto had suddenly left it alone that Frost was crying again because the cold pervaded every inch of his body, seeping into his very core and Frost unconsciously bucked and shivered because the cold was _too_ cold and _he wanted the burning warmth back_.

“Don’t worry about that, Jack-boy, all you need to do is one thing.” Proto leaned in close, his breath hot and heavy against Frost. “Give yourself over to absolute pleasure.”

And then he picked up the candle, the wax having started melting, and tilted it just enough, so the melted wax would, instead of sliding down the candlestick, drip down onto Frost. The first drop came down onto Frost’s cock, and he started crying because it was _so damn hot_ and combined with the shifting, melting chocolate penis he had in him that was slowly freezing him solid as it stole his heat.

Another drop fell down, and Frost was sobbing, because the molten wax _hurt so good_. As the seconds ticked by, the rough texture of the chocolate cock was fading away as it melted, and Frost bit back a scream as there was a spurt of cold cold _cold_ liquid that he knew was the blood as the chocolate sealing it inside melted away, and it started to ooze into him, shifting and sliding and filling him with a chill that faded as the blood warmed up, becoming less like molasses and more like the molten chocolate that was slowly melting and lining his inside with a chocolate coating.

More and more wax poured down as the candles flame burned ever closer to the wax, and more and more of Frost’s cock was coated in it, giving it a bright red sheen as it cooled and became a hard shell pressing against the throbbing skin.

“I think that’s enough there, don’t you?” Frost whimpered at the overload of sensation, wanting Proto to do something, _anything_ , to finally bring him down from this sensual high he was at.

The wax drizzled down onto his chest, and Proto hummed to himself a song Frost vaguely recognized as being _I Can Make You a Man_ from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, before his brain shut down as the wax spread itself across his chest and legs from Proto’s ministrations. The blood and chocolate started seeping out of him, as the chocolate cock melted away. Proto clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before pulling the candle away as the wax was dripped all along Frost’s legs.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Proto moved to the wardrobe, muttering to himself as he stood in front of it, although Frost couldn’t make out the words being said, before the wardrobe was opened and Proto reached in, pulling out a small ceramic bowl. Returning with the bowl in hand, Proto set it down where the blood and chocolate was pooling below Frost. “Don’t want to waste good blood and chocolate, do we?”

Frost, at this point in sensual pleasure, just _could not care_ how flipping creepy Proto was being, because at this point he was prepared to _beg_ for an orgasm, just to put an end to this.

“All in good time, Jack-boy.” Proto traced the wax trails on Frost’s body, and he was absolutely sure that Proto was enjoying this far more than Frost was. “But if you _must_ know, it will be soon. I just need to peel you first.”

fingers reached down, plucking at the wax trails, pulling and yanking and dragging his fingers along the raw, red skin while Frost whimpered in denied pleasure because this was _changing his perception of everything_ and _pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain_ and he’d lost sight of up from down because all of it, the heat and the cold and the pure _sensations_ of it all gave Frost an orgasm so unbelievably hard and strong that everything faded away into a black nothingness.

When he woke up, Frost was fully dressed and laying against Proto on the futon. Everything hurt in the _best way_ and he could barely bring himself to do anything other than exist. One glance at the Chair showed no sign of anything resembling the acts he’d been subjected to, but then, Frost reasoned, there wouldn’t be, with Proto. Overlong fingers threaded themselves through every inch of his hair without the hand even moving, and Frost knew that this was the closest he was getting to cuddling with Proto.

“Hmmm, Mr. Pickles. You’re fur is exquisitely soft today,” Proto mumbled in his sleep, and Frost side-eyed the man as best he could.

_What the hell is Mr. Pickles?_


End file.
